HONK
by rjmg
Summary: The eyes that once shined in the moonlight were now clouded in fear and despair. Meulin retells that one fateful night with Kurloz. She'd never be able to *hear* it from anyone else, anyway.


_A/N: There was a phase where I couldn't get over this sad ship, so I was tempted to write this for them. Though I mentioned previously that "_Fight" _was my first fanfic this came even before that. I guess the reason to that was because when I did this, I hardly considered it a fic at all. But it would've been a waste to allow it to go stale…_

_This is pretty shitty on my part, but I hope you guys like it at least a bit, and I'd really appreciate feedback :)_

* * *

**Meulin's POV**

His hands were warm against mine, and they've kept me steady for all I've known. Well, so did his voice. Now all that's left are echoes still bouncing off the walls of my mind.

* * *

We strode up the hill that night, to an area where the vast patch of grass blanketed the ground and the starlit sky served as our roof. As we arrived, we settled ourselves. He offered me his shoulder—the most comforting pillow I have ever rested on—as we gazed upon the pink Beforus moon. Accompanied by an occasional exchange of stories, I felt that I was completely ready to dwell in that moment for eternity if it were only possible.

We conversed as the moon continued to rise, till our eyes began to get weary from staring at the heavens. And like gentle kisses upon my ear, I could've sworn his voice was the most beautiful sound I ever knew existed, even in spite of the immensely serene evening. It would've kept me awake the whole time, but his touch brought so much safety and warmth and comfort that it suggested otherwise. We tried to remain awake but eventually dozed off in each other's embrace.

* * *

_I dreamt of ships—I guess this really is my most prevailing thought. Diamonds and clubs and spades and hearts…My _otp_ was clear; it belonged to the flushed quadrant, and seemed to be an undeniably strong ship as it outstood all the others: no doubt, it was ours._

_Our flushed state just seemed to exceed everyone's expectations—including our very own._

* * *

As the dream progressed, more abstract and colorful thoughts tore through the void often present as I engaged in sleep. But an interruption blurred the thought and the void began to set in again; it was a terrible, terrible disruption—my lips still quiver and by body still trembles as I attempt to even recall.

I was awoken as the howl pierced my ears, immediately catching sight of Kurloz warped in torment, immediately cutting off my abilities to listen. In what seemed to be an agonizing position, he knelt down beside me with his head drawn back, screaming, as if his lungs were to burst at any second. His fists were clenched, and I could see the tension all over his body at the force that overcame his very being.

I couldn't do anything; I was too paralyzed in distress. Tears just ceaselessly streamed down my cheeks. I tried crying out to him, but nothing could interrupt the situation he was caught in.

_How would he even hear me if I couldn't even hear myself?_

I couldn't fully grasp the occurrence—not without the aid of sound perception. But I could tell; I couldn't paint a vivid picture of something of something loud transpiring, something evidently chaotic.

I cupped my ears in reaction to Kurloz's distressing visage. But it was too late; why protect something immutably beyond repair?

I never imagined his handsome voice to be capable of such a thing. Well, he thought so too, at the very moment he snapped back to consciousness. The first few moments proved he felt lost, and his eyes constantly scanned the scene, gradually attempting to pick up pace with events, As he had grasped the situation (with a sobbing me in front of him), his eyes widened in sheer terror and he clapped his hands on his mouth.

I reached out for him and he just stumbled back, still with faltering hands masking about half of his face. _There was nothing I could do. _He looked so distraught, baffled, so lost. I was still tearing when I finally extended both my arms to cup his cheeks—and, with success, he did not retract from me this time. I steadied him with my touch.

With unsteady breaths, he remained still as he bowed his head down, as if to hide. He reluctantly raised one hand to mine and allowed his shaking fingers to entwine with my own, and then I felt a sudden dampness on the hand that remained on his precious face; later realizing that they were tears. And so my thoughts on Kurloz's inability to cry started dissolving—along with all the sounds I was once privileged to hear.

I noticed him muttering something under his breath as he sobbed, though I couldn't quite depict it, so I leveled his face with mine using a gentle hand to lift his chin. The movement of his lips was constant, in what seemed to be the same word repeated over and over. And then I caught it: _fuck_. He was swearing, again and again and again.

I couldn't bear to see him like this any longer. It felt as if a metal chain had been whipped across my chest, my heart. The situation pained us both—more than w e could ever be able to express or utter. More than anyone could ever imagine. So in that moment, I plunged forward and threw both my arms around him, both to steady and console. Buried my head in the warm shoulder I once laid upon, and drenched the thin cloth barely separating our skin in tears. He gripped onto the back of my shirt; grasped me in response. An ineffable sensation of a blend of longing, aggressiveness, and pain coursed through our blood. A seemingly vague feeling and indescribable urge that makes you twitch as you hopelessly put effort in trying to depict what exactly it is.

As he was contented with the cursing, our eyes met. What once shined in the moonlight was now clouded in fear and despair; a haze produced by the blur of events that unceremoniously presented themselves to us. He inched his face closer to mine, but before he moved into me, he mustered up his guts to send out a clear and sincere apology, though unable to avoid the bitter expression plastered on his face as he did.

"I'm so sorry." Our foreheads touched, both trembling, and I felt him release a hopeless sigh. _There was nothing I could do._ He placed his lips upon mine, gently. I felt his tears. He felt mine. And the tenderness our kiss began with slowly faded in the growing intensity; involving encircling of arms and locking of lips, over and over, as if never to leave off.

What I'd give to have that once more.

* * *

That was the last time I felt Kurloz's lips, the last time he ever used his tongue. It was the last time he used his voice as well, which, unfortunately, I was unable to witness; only struggling to read the muttering of words I'll never get to hear again.

Well, I guess I can't really blame him for what happened. It had exceeded any of our capabilities to control—not even he was fully aware of the terror transpiring. And I couldn't really stand in the way of his decision with the thread and needle later on. I couldn't have stopped him anyway. He knew how grave his fault was and he knew how he was to deal with it; leaving him to be a troll of few words.

What a shame though; what a _purrfect_ _otp _we could've been.


End file.
